Over The Pain
by JEK623
Summary: It's hard to believe that two normal high school kids could go through a cute relationship together, that ends up with both dead. Move over Romeo and Juliet, Tina and Mike are taking the stage -Tike. Please enjoy, spite the sadness.
1. Chapter 1

_The Beginning_

_Prologue: Tina Cohen-Chang_

I was absorbed and determined to get my homework done before last period Study Hall got out, when my phone vibrated. I clicked the screen to reveal a text from Artie, my boyfriend. I smiled.

**Artie**: Tina, we have to talk. Choir room?

**Tina**: Be there in 5 :)

I couldn't doubt my excitement.

A few months ago, Artie had amped up as a founder of the music wing at the McKinley rec-center, which was biding up all of his time, and we hadn't gotten to see much of each other since. I tried texting him, but there was a strict no-phones policy, which he'd stuck to, a stickler for the rules. Mr. Cohn was asleep at his desk, a bottle of water in hand. Trying not to think of the type of alcohol in that plastic container, I tear a hall pass off his pad and race toward the first floor.

Rachel sends me a text, but I'm too excited to see Artie that I flick _ignore_ and jog to the choir room. I take a deep breath before cranking the door open.

"Hey Art-" I stop short, my voice panting a deep gasp.

Quinn Fabray was perched on Artie's lap, arms around his neck. She jumped at the sudden sound of my voice.

"Tina." She chokes. Artie pats her leg affectionately, before turning his suddenly-evil, beady gaze on me. He strokes his glasses up his nose before speaking.

"Tina," he sighs, muttering something like _damn, this is going to be hard_ under his breath, before raising his voice, "I wasn't lying when I said I was at the rec-center. Mr. Schue asked Quinn and I to co-found the music program." he ends the sentence, as if that explains everything. A twinge of emotion passes through his eyes, but that emotion is hard to define.

I blinked. I could feel the waterworks brewing behind my eyelids, but I attempted to hold my ground. They could not see me cry. Screw the fact that Quinn was turning over a new leaf, screw the fact that Artie looked genuinely sad. _He _broke _my _heart, not vice-versa.

I stepped back several steps until I was out the door. Artie went to say something, and Quinn was wiping the tears from her eyes, and I just couldn't handle it. I ran out.

Makeup and tears snaked my face as I ran into the nearest bathroom. I raced to the basin sink and turned the water on, missing the faint sound of a _flush!_ and scrubbed at my face, trying to rid everything of it- the doughy amount of makeup, the emotion, all of it.

"Tina? What are you doing in the boys' bathroom?" A voice asked, and I immediately reached for a paper towel to dry my swampy face. The voice sounded familiar. He sounded genuine. It sounded like one of the Glee guys. Another helpful clue was that there was no 7-11 corn-syrupy ice cutting my skin. I feel along the wall for the paper towel dispenser.

And suddenly, I'm gently pushed against the sink. I'm too drained -both physically and emotionally- to fight back, so I oblige. I can hear the circumvolve of the paper towel container feeding out sandpaper-esqe material, and suddenly, my face is being scrubbed at.

When the heavy coating of product is removed, my eyes crack open to reveal the filmy figure, who wore a football practice jersey marked 28. None other than the tall dancer, Other Asian Mike Chang.

"Hey," he whispers, a soft smile coating his face, as a warm hand reached up and palmed my cheek. I can feel the tears leaking out of my eyes, through the crusty residue of chapping makeup.

"Was it Artie?" He croaked, and I pulled back slowly. Noting the alarmed expression that masked my face, he slammed his hand on the cheap-marble counter, cursing under his breath. He looks like he's about to go into a panic attack, so I slowly reach up and touch his cheek like he had me, and whisper soothingly, "I'm fine, really."

"Tina." His voice is thick with emotion, reprimanding, "Last time I checked, he's the freak who cheated on you and broke your heart." He sounded so sure, so sincere, that I almost believed him. But it was obvious he just hated Artie, because he was a great, ambitious singer who was slowly making it into the media, what with his help in the music wing at the rec-center, and singing for local charities and so on.

Mike just wanted the confidence Artie had.

We walk out in the hallway toward my locker after he helped me clean up. When we arrive, someone scribbled something in thick black permanent marker. _Deceiving bitch._

The lump in my throat rises and I try swallowing it. With my need for Artie along with it. I choke it down. A large, bony hand curves onto my shoulder, and I turn to see Mike smiling sadly at me.

"High school is a bitch." he offers. I just shake my head, feeling a fresh gallon of tears brewing my eyes.

I sigh, reaching into my pocket and texting Artie: _someone wrote on my locker, that i was a decieving bitch. was that you?_

I get an instant reply: _maybe someone told me about your little kiss at Asian Camp._

I can feel a gasp bubble in my throat. _Mercedes? Kurt? Rachel? _

Then I realize. **Quinn.**

She may've been nicer, but no one really can change that drastically.

"Mike," I whispered as I felt the lump in my throat grow and tears started to drip, " I really think I'm going to kill myself."

"Over Artie? Really?" He hugged me and kissed my cheek, "You deserve way better." I remove myself from his grasp.

"No," I sigh. "Over the pain."

I was heading to Glee the next day, when I felt someone take hold of my shoulder. I turn slightly to see Mike Chang as he leaned over to whisper, "You okay?"

I nod silently, pain flaming inside me. He held hold of my shoulder until we were safe in Science lab. I sat next to Mercedes, who was picking at the dead frog laying on the metal tray in front of her with a scalpel; she looked disgusted.

Mr. Gregory was trying to convince her to tear the frog open, when he saw me. I roll my eyes before taking the scalpel from a grateful Mercedes. Her smile faded when she saw my facial expression.

"What's wrong?" I asked, trying to sound oblivious. But I obviously failed.

"Not to be rude, honey, but your face is all blotchy." Mercedes swiped a tear from my face, "Come on, girl. What's wrong?" I smiled. Mercedes was always someone to soothe a broken heart.

"Artie," I choked, trying to sound at least a bit civil at the boy's name, "has been dating Quinn behind my back for months, and decided to just tell me yesterday." I tried not to mope. Mercedes put a comforting hand on my shoulder. I smile at her when I feel my phone vibrate. I open the text whilst laughing as we recieved a death glare from Mr. Greg, because we hadn't started our project. I pocket my phone, text open, as I draw a long slit through the perished frog's stomach content.

Mercedes turns away, gagging. Mr. Greg sits back, pleased. I pull out my cell phone, to read the dimly-lit text.

Under the desk, I read the message several times before smiling. Mercedes looks over my shoulder and her facial expression changed from sympathetic to interested.

"Tee, did you sign up for that dating poll again?" She sounds intrigued, leaning forward on her hand as if she were waiting for a long story.

I laugh.

Figgins had the A/V club set up a poll on the school website to help McKinley students find "their match" for eternal life. He thought it would help brighten the students' days to know that someone was thinking of them. The first time I tried it, I got one of the many A/V nerds.

"Not even close." I tell her vaguely, turning back to our pruny autopsy. I write my name on top of my work sheet to hide the flushing to my cheeks.

"Oh my God, Tee! _Tellmetellmetellme_!" Mercedes almost wailed in anticipation. I laughed at her desperation.

"Mike Chang helped me clean up yesterday, after I had my breakdown." I admit quietly, and Mercedes gasped. Hiding my giggle, I turned away and started answering questions, ignoring the way her eyes went back and forth between Mike and I. He was laughing with Matt Rutherford as they watched Karofsky and Azimio in amusement. The duo was pelting frog guts at Mr. Greg, who was moving out of harm's way with ease each time.

"_No way_!" She whispered, as the thoughts finally dawned on her, "Mike Chang and you. Friends or more?" I rolled my eyes. She sounded like a gossip column in some teen magazine. Trying to drop the subject, I slice carefully at the frog, so Mr. Greg would stop shooting his own glares at us. I grab my water bottle from my purse, and take a hearty gulp. Before I can swallow though, Mercedes asks the question I've been dreading:

"So, have you kissed yet?"

I spit.

The water sailed a short distance through the air and landed on someone who was about to make by, after coming in late.

It was none other than Artie Abrams. His top of his white button-up shirt stained cloudy white. He turned to me and narrowed his keen eyes- a kaleidoscope of blue, humiliation and anger.

"A-A-Artie, I-" I stutter, humiliated and horrified.

"You know that person who wrote on your locker? They were right. You are a deceiving bitch." His voice is controlled and quiet, but the rest of the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

I try gulping the salty lump in my throat. Everyone was staring at me.

Slowly, I stand, shaking.

Some people reach for me. I can hear one distinct voice.

"Tina-"

Then I fell to the floor, and everything went black.

_A/N: Edited, and I'm hoping to re-invent this story, like all of my others!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A Forbidden Love_

_Chapter One: Mike Chang_

I raced to an unconcious Tina's side.

Lifting her gently into my lap, I brush a comma of inky black hair out of her face.

"Mr. Chang." Mr. Gregory's voice was not angry, but severely concerned, "Please take Miss Cohen-Chang to the nurse's office. Mr. Abrams," He turns to Artie. I check out of there before I have to hear what Mr. Greg has to say. I felt numb, my feet barely touching the ground as I sprinted down toward the first floor, an unaware Tina wrapped tightly in my arms.

The door slammed behind me as I charged into the compact waiting room. Mostly younger highschoolers filled the seats, Kleenexs pressed to their noses, or busted lips, or black eyes. I let out an infuriated sigh, leaning back against the wall, Tina still scooped in my arms. Even now, she was slowly starting to revive.

"M-Mike?" Her voice was quiet and shaky. A tint of puzzlement surfaced her expression.

"Sh, go back to sleep, Tee." I assured her quietly, ignoring the glances exchanged from the other patrons in the room. Fuzzily, she complies, taking her previous position in the crook of my neck. I stare down at her muted expression. Caked mascara and eyeliner lined closed amber eyes, cotton candy lips pursed, a pixie nose sloping smoothly in the center of her face. Hidden dimples under facial tissue.

"Oh, my." I almost jump, turning to see a short blond woman -the nurse's apprentice- holding a clipboard, which she immediately ditched, after seeing our unscheduled appearance. She opens the door wider so I can fit through, "Come in."

"Who's that?" An older woman with frosted-gray hair peeked out of a side office. The short woman turned for an answer.

"Tina Cohen-Chang had a nasty fall in science. Probably slipped on frog guts, or something." I offer, glancing back down at the Asian beauty in my arms. The apprentice's nose wrinkles in distaste. The elder doesn't bat an eye.

"We get one every year," she tells me, before pointing to an empty bed, "You can lay her there for now. Do you need a note, Mr.-"

"Chang, Mike." I tell her, "And, no. Mr. Gregory sent me here."

She hums, "Okay." She then heads to her office again, before returning to check Tina out. Meanwhile, the apprentice ogles at me.

"So, you play football?" She twirls a curly strand of golden hair around a manicured finger.

"Yeah, I'm a running back," I say, thinking _hey, why not throw her a bone?_

The blond perks up, "Oh, yeah. My brother's a college baller and he plays-"

"_Sheila_!" The nurse turns from where she's feeling Tina's head for bruises, to glare at her apprentice, "Hush."

The blond shrinks back, embarrassed, and crosses the room to assist her mentor. The nurse, content, turns to me and motions me to come forward. "She'll waken in a few minutes, you can stay and wait for her, correct?"

"Yeah, totally."

"What do you have next period; do I need to call anyone?" I shrug. I only had a study hall, before the end of the day, but I didn't know what Tina had. I tell her this, and she goes to look it up, while calling to Sheila-the-apprentice to get the next patient. I close the barrier curtain between us and the rest of the injured patients, just as Tina starts to revive.

"Where am I?" she asks, reaching up to clench a hand over the cold compress the nurse had left on the bump on Tina's temple. She winces.

Immediately, I go to reach to aid her, "Hey, sleepyhead. We're in the nurse's office. Are you okay?"

Tina's eyes peel open, "Yeah, just a little dizzy." She starts to lose balance, so I reach out and grab her shoulders. After a second, I let go.

"You ready to go? What class do you have?" I bombard.

"I have Mr. Schuester, but he's sick, so.. he gave us a study hall." Tina whispers. I race out to tell the nurse, who excuses her from class.

"Do you want to go to the library?" I ask her as we exit the office, earning slight glares from other uncured patrons, who I choos to ignore, "I have some Spanish homework and readings I have to catch up on."

"Sure," Tina immediately bubbles, "I mean, I love Mr. Schue and everything, but he gives _way_ too much work."

And after that, we set off toward the library, our conversation never pausing.

.

.

We're in the library when it happens.

Tina chooses a secluded table toward the back for us, while I skim the shelves, looking for a Spanish-English dictionary, and some volumes I'll need for English.

Fifth period immediately melted into lunch, and we're still studying. I help her with Math, she helps me with Spanish. A fair exchange.

"Be right back," I tell her after I realized one of the books I needed was missing. Quickly, I get up, maneauvering through the aisles quickly. Ever since Asian camp, Tina and I've been close. I'm glad about that, now that I have a great friend, and someone to talk to at the parties the Asian community always throws, and it saves me of all the preteen girls who evidently had crushes on me.

I'm so deep in my reverie, that I almost don't hear Tina whisper-yelling. I turn the corner to see Artie wheeled up to our table, speaking quietly, but fiercely, "I just don't think it's fair that I'm being judged, when you kissed Mike first!"

"Leave me alone Artie. You hurt me enough, I don't need any crap from you." She sputtered, turning back to her homework, attempting to ignore him. But he doesn't leave.

"I needed someone I could trust, Tee, and you just weren't it at the time-" Artie tries again. Pausing, I wait for her response.

"And Quinn was trustworthy?" Tina asks, her voice leaking hysteria, "She's still in the midst of babygate, after lying to both Finn and Puck, and if you haven't noticed, you're just going to be another guy on her list!"

Artie doesn't respond, the silence of the library enveloping them, and he replies, voice quieter, "Tina, I just don't think it's fair that you kissed Mike. All I wanted was someone to love me, but you didn't. I trusted you!"

"And I trusted you, too!" her voice is angered, fierce, "But then you went off to kiss Quinn. Just because I shared one little kiss, you go on to have an _affair_ with some other chick, that went on for _months._ Artie, you should be the one at fault here!"

She takes a sobering breath, before standing and gathering her things quickly and messily, not saying a word as she leaves the library. She passes me, but I don't think she sees me.

Artie stays at the table stock still for a moment, before wheeling in a circle and rolling away.

Slowly, I return to my table, traumatized by the events, and gather my own things. The period's almost over, so I pack my homework and head to my locker, getting ready for Glee Club.

I turn the lock, and it opens with ease, when I heard wheels rolling toward me.

I look up to see Artie Abrams, eyes calm, but I could see a tad of mischief brewing in his dark orbs. I cradled my army green book bag over my shoulder, trying to act as civil as I could muster, "Hey, dude."

"We need to talk about Tina." Artie didn't beat around the bush.

"Sure, what's up?" I ask, fiddling through my locker to keep myself under control. Artie sighs, leaning back in his chair, watching my every move.

"Well, I love her. Quinn was only supposed to keep my mind off my anger toward Tina. But I want her back. I _need _her back. Think you could help?" His expression is hopeful.

I curse inwardly. Under all this crap with Tina and Quinn, Artie was a nice guy. But the way he'd treated those two.. it just wasn't fair.

"Sure, see you at Glee," I say, hinting him that he could leave now. He smirked as he left, obviously proud of himself.

I wait until he's around the corner before I punch my locker closed, anger seeping in my body.

"Hey Mike." Tina cries, skipping down the hallway, radiating oblivion as she leaned against a neighboring locker. She cringed as Azimio walked past with a grape slushie in hand.

"Hey Tina," I attempt a smile, avoiding the urgency to kiss her.

"Artie keeps looking at me," Tina sighs, "I'm starting to wonder if this is all just one big misunderstanding."

"You should really get back with him." I state encouragingly, swallowing the sour taste in my mouth.

Her eyebrows crinkled in confusion.

Rolling my eyes, I slam my locker, "I gotta get to class."

She grabbed my arm and pulled me back, "Class can wait; what's wrong?"

"Tee-" I groan as the bell rings overhead. Attempting to walk off again, I get the previous results. Sighing, I almost snap at her. She jumps back, fright filling her expression.

"Mike. Do you not want me here? I really don't mind. It's just I mean. I really want-" She stutters timidly, tugging on the rubber band around her wrist, snapping it on the skin a few times.

"Want what? That cheater-freak you call your boyfriend. He uses you. He wants you back and I just don't want you to waste your time!" I state loudly, earning a few dirty looks that only last a second, before the owners return to their in-between-class update.

"I'm not wasting my time, Mike." She bites harshly, "I'm just glad I have someone who loves me, not a jock like you." With that, she turns on her heel and trudges off to class.

After a long moment, I repeat my punch to a locker. The skin around my knuckled stung, bruising with little cuts from the metal, but it overrode the daggers stabbing into my heart.

Slightly.


	3. Chapter 3

_A Forbidden Love_

_Chapter Two: Tina Cohen-Chang_

Sprinting away from Mike, I can feel hurtful daggers coursing through my veins.

He thought he was being _helpful_ with steering me in the direction of heartbreak. But he didn't know me at all; he had no clue what was best for _me._ So many people cared about Mike -mostly for his popularity, but..- there was alway a girl crushing on him, or a boy who longed for Mike's position on the football team.

Mike Chang wasn't any Finn Hudson, but he was pretty darn close.

"Hey Tee." Mercedes calls as she and Kurt waft over through the throngs of students to my side. Closing my locker, I greet them.

"What's wrong, Tina?" Kurt asks as he looked on down the hallway, his cuticles scratching the cover of his notebook.

"I should be asking _you _the same thing!" I state, turning the tables, as I turn to follow Kurt's gaze to a new student- _Blaine Anderson_ was his name.

"_Someone's _got a crush," Mercedes dishes, winking.

"If anyone has a crush, it's _Tina_." Kurt snaps.

"... on Artie." Tina finishes, and the mini-brawl between the two friends halts, each turning to the Asian girl with wide eyes.

"What?" Kurt asks, mouth popping into a small _O _with shock.

"I thought you liked Mike!" Mercedes whispers fiercely, glancing around to make sure no one was listening in to their conversation, "Santana was whining to me in Spanish that he couldn't stop talking about you."

About to turn down these hopeful rumors, my cell phone chimes. A new text message.

**Mike: We need to talk.**

**Tina: My locker, now. **

"Mike's coming over here," I inform them, glancing over the crowds of people to see Mike detach himself from a locker neighboring Noah Puckerman's and bobbing through the crowd. When my friends don't move, I shoo them down the hall, "Go!"

"We'll be over there," Kurt smirks, waggling his fingers as he and Mercedes duck past a few football players to a little alcove between some lockers.

"Hey," Mike's voice was quiet as I turned around, slamming my locker. The crowds were thinning out as they took refuge in the lunch room.

"Hi," I reply, but his lips were already on mine. His fingers touched my waist gently, mine twining around his neck.

"I knew it!"

We snap apart, eyes wide as we quickly try to straighten our clothes. Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry were walking toward us hand-in-hand, Noah Puckerman on their heels.

Rachel giggles when they get to us, "You two are the cutest thing."

"Huh?" came from Mike.

"Come again." I asked, giving Mike a quizzical look.

"A lot of us suspected it for a while." Puck laughed.

"We had a bet going on who would lean in first." Finn laughed. Puck grinned widely as Mike nailed a punch to his shoulder.

"Alright, can we go to lunch now? I'm hungry," Puck whines, all business.

"Yeah, let's go," Rachel adds, tugging me by the arm, Finn still attached to her other arm. She steers us into the lunch room, and we all split off to our respective tables.

When we get to our table, my friends bombard me with questions, which I try to answer quick through a stutter at the attention. But it's when I lick my lips that I realize that my mouth tastes like banana LipSmackers.

One person in this whole school only wore that Chapstick.

Her name was Brittany S. Pierce.


	4. Chapter 4

_A Heartbreak_

_Chapter Three: Mike Chang_

_Tina knew. _

That was the only theory I could come up with as I was walking to Mr. Gregory's science class the next day. Tina had been avoiding me all day, ignoring me during all our classes, and turning off her cell phone.

Yesterday, when I was tutoring Brittany in the library, she said that she couldn't pay me with cash.

"Then what will you pay me with?" I asked as we gathered our books together and got ready for lunch.

Wordlessly, she dropped her bag and whirled me around, pressing me into the bookcase and crashed her lips to mine. We ended up making out until the librarian shooed us out of the library with a warning.

Taking this to his advantage, Artie has been following Tina around, smooth talking her and she was letting him, kissing his cheek when he said something sweet, and they'd been holding hands for what felt like years. They seemed like an old married couple in comparison to high-school sweethearts.

"You okay, man?" Puck asks as I drop my books on the lab table beside him.

"No," I mutter, dropping my head down on my crossed arms. Sparing a glance across the room, I watch Tina throw her head back, long dark hair like a Pantene commercial, as she laughed at something Artie said.

Someone pokes my shoulder, and I turn to see a fit blond kid sitting with a navy and white letter jacket, bleached hair falling into his eyes, "So, who's the girl over there?" His head pokes in Tina's direction.

"Names' Tina Cohen-Chang. She and Artie have been together for a while now. I'm Mike by the way." I swallow hard as I glance at Tina, who is still giggling with her friends.

"I'm Sam Evans," the blond states.

"Nice to meet you, bro," I tell him, glancing between him and Tina.

Class flies by, and so does the rest of the day. But it's as I'm heading out to the car that I see Sam leaning against a rusty red truck, chatting with a girl who had long, blue-black hair. She laughed out loud, and my heart stopped.

Briskly, I sort past them, and gun my engine.

Sam was talking to Tina.

Cranking down my window, I listen from a few parking spots, to their conversation.

"So, you wanna go get some coffee tomorrow, and we can talk more about it?" Sam was asking, flipping his white-blond fringe from his eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, the quicker we get it done, the better," Tina adds, "I'm really glad you asked _me, _Sam."

"How couldn't I?" his large, pink mouth foils into a smile, "So, see you tomorrow?"

"Definitely," Tina confirms, grinning.

I swear at that moment, my heart stops.

_A/N: I hope you guys like this version a lot better. I still own nothing, which is sad :(. _


	5. Chapter 5

_A Heartbreak_

_Chapter Four: Tina Cohen-Chang_

Later that night, I was picking out my outfit for tomorrow, when my cell phone flashed.

**Mike: **So, what did Sam want?

The first thing I thought was that he was jealous- but then I realized that he was dating Brittany, so.

**Tina: **I don't think it's your business.

He doesn't text back for a while. For my project outfit tomorrow, I chose a casual striped shirt and a short black skirt with lace-up knee high combats. Sam was ranting about how he sucked at public speaking, even if it was only in front of the camera, but it still made him worried.

It honestly surprised me, to be friends with loud, infuriating jocks all day, you _had _to be the same way. But Sam was completely different. Especially since he was new, asking a nerdy Gleek like me.

Sam had asked me to be his project partner for English. We were taping scenes from _Romeo and Juliet _and we had to tape our scene and turn it in by Monday. Drawing a scene from the teacher's hat, we got the final scene; where the two protagonists took their lives. Lucky us.

My phone buzzed. **Mike: **Is too.

Eyes widening, I click his number and call him.

"Excuse me?" I yell into the receiver, "It is _not _your business who I hang out with and why!" My voice cracks with anger, and my heart pounds heavily in my chest.

Mike is silent a long moment before, "Well, I'm just looking out for you. Sam doesn't seem like the best guy to hang out with."

I snort. Sam Evans was like, the sweetest, cutest guy I've ever met. He was really cute and shy when he asked to be my partner, and seems like a great person.

"Liar." I state, before clicking the end button without a second thought.

.

.

The next day, we plan to work on our project after football practice, so I'm sitting in the bleachers when Brittany Pierce bobs up the squeaky bleachers and plops down beside me, as if we were best friends.

"Hey, Tee," she coos, popping a Dot in her mouth, "So, I heard you're hanging out with Sam Evans." Both of us turn to look at the field, where Sam and the rest of the team are squirting water into their mouths and stripping their shirts to wipe the sweat off their brows.

Brittany waves at Mike and Puck, who smirk and wave back. Mike and I meet eyes, but I shake my head and turn back to Brittany, "Yep."

"He's cute," the blond Cheerio encourages, flipping her ponytail and popping another piece of candy between her plump pink lips, "Are you still hanging out with Mike?" she asks through her chewing.

Sparing a glance at the field, my eyes move from Sam to Mike, then back again. Shrugging, I state truthfully, "Nope."

"Well, that's cool," Brittany smirks, bouncing up in her white Adidas and skipping back down to the field, where Coach Sylvester is yelling at one of the male cheerleaders about crying, through her infamous megaphone.

.

.

"So," Sam says, flipping through the few page script we'd summed up out of our textbook, "I basically run into the tomb, kiss you and then shoot myself?"

"That's exactly what happens," I tell him, "I see you actually read." Letting him know I'm kidding, I wink.

"It's cause I'm blond, isn't it?" he smirks, lunging across the room at me and pummeling me onto his bed, his long, slender fingers tickling me.

"Stop!" I yell through my giggles. Neither of us hear his mother call down that we have a visitor. It's only when loud footsteps tromp down the stairs that we look up to find Mike Chang, a textbook tucked under his arm, fists balled.

"What. the. hell?!" Mike seethes, and runs across the room, dropping the book and ramming Sam off me. The blond bangs his head off the ground, howling at the pain, as Mike's fists fly.

"Mike!" I yell, yanking him off Sam and pinning him to the floor. Knee digging into his chest, I hold him down as Sam gets up, sporting a new black eye, and shaking, "What the hell is wrong with you?" I spit.

Mike pushes me off, into Sam's arms, "Nothing, just the fact that I can't have you."

And with that, he storms out, leaving an awkward silence hanging heavily in the air.

_A/N: Complete plot twist! You like? :)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Romeo_

_Chapter Five: Mike Chang_

It had started raining by the time I stormed out of the Evans' household, water soaking my body as I trudge home, anger still swelling in my bleeding fists and still seething.

How did she find _Sam Evans_ attractive? All he was was a blond guy with a trouty mouth and a super-sweet exterior, which was probably cold-hard lying on the inside.

Cracking my neck, I sprint up the driveway and into my house.

"Michael, where have you been?" his father booms from the kitchen, but I ignore him, clambering up to my room and slamming my door with a hard vengeance.

Shaking, I leaned back against the closed door for support, falling to the floor. Angry at myself, anger at the world I am. Why couldn't she just like me, and not him?

Why do _I _have to be in love with someone who loves everyone but _me_?

Shaking, I remember the plastic bottle tucked under my bed. It had the child-protective lid, full of colored pills that were probably out of date, but it didn't matter.

Scrambling on my hands and knees to the bed, I reach a hand under my bed and draw the bottle out from some old notebooks and novels I'd fallen for as a child.

Adding a notebook to my loot, I find a leaky pen and scribble a bunch of drivel onto the paper:

_Dear whoever,_

_Look, I know that this is probably rash, and I'll be going to hell for this, but I can't take it anymore. I'm stressed all the time and my heart aches for her. But she doesn't love me. Her name is Tina Cohen-Chang, and she is a beautiful Asian girl, whom I fell for when I was a camper at Asian camp, to when I was a counselor there, to now. _

_Yet everytime I fall for her, she runs into someone elses' arms. It doesn't matter who, it's just someone. It hurts me that I can't love her the way others do. _

_To my family, I love you and this is not your fault. No matter what people will say -this is Lima, after all- it's not your fault. _

_It's mine. _

_I broke my own heart for chasing someone I knew loved others. _

_I hope everyone forgives me; I just want to be __**over the pain. **_

_Love, Michael Chang. _

Still quivering, I toss the pen aside, ink coloring my fingers as I uncap the medicine case and chug down the last of the medicine.

Lying back on my crusty ecru carpet, I stare up at the ceiling, at the navy ceiling with gold starts painted on it. Planets and shooting stars, colors in a blank, deep sky.

I remember when my dad painted that for me. We sat together, painting the room and sticking up all the cute stickers of the accessories. If it weren't for accessories, life would be blank.

We would all be similar; all one certain body, all one way of life. We'd be perfect if it weren't for our flaws, imperfections and status. Status kills.

And with that, my eyes close.

For the last time.

_A/N: I hope you know what happens next! Romeo can't go without his Juliet. _


	7. Chapter 7

_Juliet_

_Chapter Six: Tina Cohen-Chang_

I never would've knew Mike was dead if it weren't for the suddenly-droopy halls of McKinley High.

Casually I was walking into my first period class, when my teacher quickly took role. She didn't call Mike's name. At first, I thought it was just weird, until I noticed that a bunch of the cheerleaders were crying; the jocks were either tearing up themselves, or had their heads down. Some weren't even here.

Before I could ask anyone what was going on, the principal called over the PA system that there was an assembly in the auditorium. The hallways were filled of clones from my classroom: dripping tears, sobbing, or just silent depressions.

It was as if the halls were devoid of life.

Mercedes and Kurt attacked me, each of them taking my arms, as they began whispering.

"It's so horrible," Mercedes sobs.

"I never thought he'd do _this,_" Kurt states, blinking tears out of his eyes.

"What?" I whisper to them, and they both stop dead in their tracks. Except this time, no yells were called out about the holdup, and Kurt and Mercedes yanked me into the nearest bathroom, shoving me in and slamming the door, locking it.

"You didn't hear?" Mercedes asks, and both of their mouths drop open when I shake my head silently.

"Mike Chang killed himself last night," Kurt sobs, not even caring that his perfect porcelain skin was colored and unattractive.

Paralyzed.

That's the only way I can describe myself as I stare at them with wide eyes, surprise full on my face. Tears were dripping down my face, but I couldn't move. Overcome with emotions, I was.

"We'd better get to the assembly," Kurt says, and he and Mercedes look at me with their longing, cool eyes. "We'll save you a seat," Mercedes assures, before the two unlock the door and go back to the auditorium.

But I couldn't.

I couldn't hear a bunch of cheerleaders sob on and on about how they had dated Mike in seventh grade, or how perfect he was. Couldn't swallow as a bunch of teary-eyed jocks told of their childhoods with the Chang kid. Or some other kids of the Asian community, about how they were so close to him and that he never seemed to be the kid who would kill himself.

No.

Springing into action, I ran to my locker and got my stuff before breaking for it out the front doors. How could I care about ditching when this lovely boy who was so caring, kill himself?

The first thing I did was drove straight to the Changs' residence.

Yellow _Do Not Cross _tape was lining the perimeter of their yard. The Changs were standing outside near the coroner van. Mr. Chang was stoic, holding a sobbing Mrs. Chang flush against him, and his siblings were all huddled around, not quite understanding what was going on.

"Mrs. Chang!" I yelled, ducking under the tape before anyone could stop me, and sprinting over to them.

But she stops me with the raise of her wrinkly hand, eyes cold and horrified, "Go to hell." she states, her voice shaking in sync with her hand.

Stopping, I keep a distance, my lower lip quivering, "What are you talking ab-"

Mr. Chang lets go of his wife and goes into the pocket of his tan pants, drawing out a wrinkled piece of notebook paper and thrusts it at me with a flourish.

As I read, I feel the tears dripping quicker and heavier, speckles hitting the paper like murky storm clouds taking over white clouds.

_I just want to be __**over the pain.**_

That phrase sticks with me, even as I crumple the note into my fist and storm back over to my car. His family yells after me, demanding for the note; they're just rolling over to me when I rev the engine and make it to my house like a bat out of hell.

Lima's streets are for once deserted, letting me make it home in the matter of a few moments. It's silent, like a ghost town, after my engine buzzes to a dull nothing and all that I hear is the slap of my Converse as I float distractedly into my empty house.

Mike is gone. _Gone._

He killed himself because we ended on a bad note; thinking I'd never love him -_which I do- _so he killed himself out of heartbreak.

Almost like Romeo...

_to my Juliet. _

It's the only way to pay him back.

Maybe if he didn't swallow a bunch of pills, we could've talked this out and actually fell in love. But that's out of the question now.

Slowly, I make my way to the kitchen, sorting through our knife drawer and drawing out a rather large, sharp one, and melding my hand to the plastic black handle. Carrying it up to my room, I survey my cluttered 'home' for a slice of paper and a pen. Quickly, I write my own note on a whim:

_To Whom It May Concern: _

_Well, you saw someone die today because of me: Michael Chang. _

_Never would I ever want to hurt him; I love him. I wish things didn't end up this way, but he's the Romeo to my Juliet. This is my only way for me to repay him. _

_Please forgive me; _

_I just want to be __**over the pain**__; the pain I will have to deal with in the future without my true love, my best friend, my soul mate. _

_Please forgive me of my pain, my sins, my memories embedded in your lives. _

_I love you guys, _

_Farewell, Christina "Tina" Cohen-Chang. _

After signing with a quick, leaky flourish, I draw the knife to my chest, glancing at my place that I'd called home for so long, before to the words that stared up at me on the double-suicide notes.

_**I just want to be over the pain.**_

And with that, the knife cut open my flesh, and I fell to the floor.

Stars flashed under my eyelids, as I thought of one last thing.

_Go to hell, _his mother told me.

_I'll see __**him **__there._

Then, I was lost.

.

.

_A/N: You hate me? I hate me, too. Epilogue coming up. _


	8. Chapter 8

_Over the Pain_

_Epilogue_

The funeral parlor is small, packed with people. From family, to fellow classmates, to the fifth grade math tutor who taught Mike to divide, to the girl who taught Tina how to play hot hands, which usually left her cute little olive ones red and blistered, they were all there.

Sam Evans surveyed the room, drinking in some kids he'd come to know in his three days at McKinley High School, which was already spoiled with a double suicide.

He drunk in Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez sobbing over Mike's open casket; watched as Artie Abrams bent his head at Tina's in prayer, which neighbored Mike's. The immediate families stood close to their childrens' coffins, taking in sympathy and help.

Pictures and collages hung behind the capsules, including their matching suicide notes, which were encased in glass next to one another.

Mercedes Jones and Kurt Hummel stood almost protectively over Tina, giving Artie daggered looks laced with rage. It was he who started this timeline to their friends' deaths.

Sam spotted Quinn Fabray across the room, and when she caught his eye, she dodged through the crowd and soon ended up at his side.

"Such a shame, isn't it?" she asks him, wrapping her arm through his as they both looked upon the mourners, and were pushed against the wall for more people to get close to the two loved kids who lost to themselves.

"They'll be happier together," Sam tells her, pulling her flush against him.

"Really?" she asks, her voice inquiring. She raises her eyebrow at him, "I thought when you committed suicide that you went to hell." Her voice is unashamed and serious.

That earns a few dirty looks from mourners, all dressed with the funeral code: black clothing, with high heels and starched shirts and dress pants. All too formal.

"Well, if you leave that unwritten," Sam replies evenly, cocking his head to the side as he watched a few extended family members kneel over the heavily made-up bodies to pray, "When you love someone, it doesn't matter where you are. All that matters is that you're together."

The blond cheerleader seems to absorb this, she also watching the mourning behavior. The thick tension is intoxicating in the room, and it makes a few tears swell into her eyes.

"I guess you're right," she admits, tucking herself closer to Sam. After a long moment, she speaks up again, "If Romeo and Juliet had closure, knowing that their familes had abided peace because it was their fault, why do I feel like Tina and Mike... _don't?" _

Contemplating that, Sam watches a few funeral directors close the capsules holding his two acquaintances, as a swarm of mourners go to their cars, for the burial. Finally, as they head toward the exit, he replies, "Because they ended on a sour note."

"Okay then," Quinn continues, stopping him just outside the church doors, "Do you think they'll ever get over the pain?"

Sighing, Sam reaches out and takes her hand, "As long as they're together-"

"-they'll be happy." Quinn finishes.

And with that, the couple goes off to their cars and drive off to the cemetery, only praying that their perished friends will get over the pain.

.

.

_A/N: I know it's a sad ending. but I hope you enjoyed. I'm surprised it turned out this way! I know you may be too! Please check out my other stories if you liked this one. Peace out, yo!_


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